


Back on the Map (Explicit Outtake)

by returntosaturn



Series: Back on the Map [3]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, How do I tag?, Smut, back on the map series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 18:31:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10747404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returntosaturn/pseuds/returntosaturn
Summary: “I’m sorry,” he crooned, scrubbing at the back of his neck with a heavy hand. “I never bothered with a bed. A real bed. I’m not here often enough, long enough to…”“It’s fine,” she promised sweetly, stepping across the narrow room to sit at its edge. It creaked cheaply, and Newt made a disgruntled sound, still rubbing his neck and drawing his shoulders tight.“We’ll make it work. Just come here.”// Set during Chapter 4 of Back on the Map. A continuation into the ending scene. Smut.





	Back on the Map (Explicit Outtake)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KatieHavok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieHavok/gifts).



_“This is crazy…” she choked, squeezing her eyes shut._

_“Yes,” he answered, hand wandering to just catch the roots of her hair at the nape of her neck before anchoring there._

_Again they met one another, finding an angle and learning one another. Her tongue darted out helplessly to flick against his teeth, and he groaned, shifting impossibly closer, pressing the weight of himself against her._

_She grasped at the front of his button down, wrinkled from the jumper he’d worn over it earlier, and his hand met hers, pressing her palm to his chest, an action that made her heart clench._

_His lips dipped to her jaw, the line of her neck, and she couldn’t hold back the urgent whimper of his name._

_“Tina…” he echoed, leveling his eyes back to hers._

_The green in his eyes had been crowded to strokes of deep emerald under a line of jagged reddish fringe, and an unexpected smile crossed her face at the state of him._

_He mirrored her, chuckling thinly against her shoulder. “This _is_ crazy,” he repeated._

_She answered in a watery little laugh before arching to kiss his cheek again, demanding attention and welcoming it openly when his mouth returned to hers._

-

He sighed audibly, stroking a hand down her waist to land at her hip and give a gentle push. She caught on easily, shifting and scooting to lay back. The ancient couch groaned in protest of their fumbling limbs until they found their places, Newt’s knees planted to either side of hers. 

His fingers grasped the collar of her t-shirt and tugged, his mouth seeking more skin to suckle, and she gave an impatient whine. He chuckled against her again, pressing his teeth around her collarbone in a gentle nip.

Her hands flew for his shirt again, tugging him closer.

‘Do we want to do this here, or…?” she gasped, surprised at the high pitch of her own voice.

His hair was tousled to all angles when he lifted his head, every bit the impressive scientist he was, eyes wide as saucers at her request.

“You want to…?” he started, swallowing and gaping at her again, in wonder.

“Yes,” she said firmly, and to prove the point arched herself into his chest, displacing him slightly. It was no matter, for he stood, crookedly finding his balance and reaching for her with both hands. She took only a moment to wonder when the hand had ticked from ‘crazy’ to ‘please,’ but the thought was irrelevant now. 

Navigating the narrow, bent stairs that led up to his bedroom proved a minute challenge, a stumble and scurry of tripping feet and seeking hands, plenty of pauses for heated kisses. But at the top, she looked over the room, unlit except for streetlight glow filtering from a wide window along which more plants were stacked. Books were everywhere, in disorderly stacks on the floor at the foot of the naked metal framing of a camp bed, at least topped with a thin single mattress, made in dark sheets and a plaid comforter, probably the very same from his room when he was a boy.

“I’m sorry,” he crooned, scrubbing at the back of his neck with a heavy hand. “I never bothered with a bed. A real bed. I’m not here often enough, long enough to…”

“It’s fine,” she promised sweetly, stepping across the narrow room to sit at its edge. It creaked cheaply, and Newt made a disgruntled sound, still rubbing his neck and drawing his shoulders tight.

“We’ll make it work. Just come here.”

He obeyed, dropping to his knees before her to unlace his boots. She carded a hand through his hair, giving a pleased hum that made him snap his chin up, eyes bright.

She could find no ministrations that would engage her while he worked, so she watched until he shoved the pair away under the bed and stood, feet still clad in yellow and black striped socks.

She snorted in the back of her throat, leaning her weight back to smirk up at him.

“What?” A smile ticked at the corner of his mouth.

“They match your scarf,” she pointed out breezily, reaching up to tug the tails of his untucked shirt, pulling him closer and _in_ , between her knees.

His laughter huffed against her cheek, where he kissed her sweetly before journeying back to her mouth.

He bent, settling his weight above her, balanced on hands and knees.

The bed trembled at the new weight, and they gasped in unison at an impending collapse, before laughing together when they remained stable, her hands at the bottom buttons of his shirt.

She worked them open from bottom to top, leaning up to kiss the shadowed expanse of his abdomen, feeling his heartbeat against her lips, before finally pushing the weary blue fabric from his shoulders. He leaned away briefly shrug it away, and in the slant of yellow lamplight from the street, she could see the etching of ink against his skin. Her eyes jumped wildly from the black on his shoulder, to the graceful, intricate band on his opposite arm. There was the depiction of a dragon, further down just above the dip of his left hipbone, its body curving over his side and wings unfurled over his back. All these set into a map of freckles, darkest at his shoulders and collarbone, spotted in loose constellations near the head of the inky dragon, and the waist of his trousers. 

Her eyes fled up to his, wide, her smile approving and enraptured all at once.

He watched her fingers wander, tracing the dragon’s outline with careful, memorizing strokes.

He allowed only a few moments more of her perusal before dipping back down to her, back at her neck and what he could reach of her shoulder. Gently, she pushed at his forearm, and he complied, leaning away far enough that she could yank the hem up and over her head, her hair blossoming out in one beautiful brown wave once it was over her head and tossed aside.

A hungry rumble thrummed at his lips and he secured himself further over her, their faces level, his eyes roving hard and solid over her chest, her stomach.

Her cheeks flushed, hot and indiscreet at the sound he made, suddenly uneasy in her unadorned, white cotton bra, until he reached to stroke at the slight swell of her breast through the fabric with his slender fingers. 

“Tina…” he sighed, and even in the darkness she could see his throat work with a swallow.

Without further pretense, she reached forward for his belt, giving an affirming tug before working at the tail of it. He allowed her to shove his pants over narrow hips, to reveal generically patterned plaid boxers. She gave a huff, biting at a joke about how he should’ve matched his underwear as well, instead keeping it for herself, choosing the moment over a silly quip.

A kick, and his pants slipped in a rustle to the wood floor.

She hitched herself further up towards the head of the bed, splayed over it properly, and he followed, prowling after her over the wrinkle of sheets.

Then he was at her lips again, plying her sweetly and honestly, breaking away to breathe hotly into the hollow of her throat.

He panted for several seconds, muscles rigid. She traced at the sharp arch of his spine, drawn tight as a cat’s.

“Hey...What’s the matter?” she questioned, smoothing at the curve of his shoulder.

He groaned, irritated rather than intrigued. “I haven’t done this in quite some time.”

“That’s fine.” She tried her softest tone, bringing a hand to his hair. “It’s alright. This is perfect.”

She paused, calculating. “We can stop,” she suggested, evenly and honestly, trying for an angle to read his face.

He gave another sound, this one full of something she couldn’t quite grasp. “No. _No_ …” he husked.

His fingers found the strap of her bra, bringing it down to kiss at the line of skin it had covered. “I want to please you. I want to…” His words fell short with a liquid rumble in his throat as he nosed the slight curve of her chest. 

His lips journeyed the shallow valley between her breasts, chastely curious and she arched into him, giving a bright moan. 

“Take it off,” she ground, reaching herself to easily unclasp the thing and it fell away loosely against her stomach to be pushed away by his broad hand.

Measured and easy, he guided her to lie down again, a hand at her back, before leaning close, close to her chest, inspecting with steady fingers. She was still, watching as he observed until he sighed his praise and teased one rosy nipple into his mouth without pretense, humming at the way it twinged to life against his tongue.

She both away and against him, a high whine bubbling out of her at both the sight of his scrutiny and the suckle of his mouth. He repeated the action with its twin and Tina sought purchase, a hand flying to his naked thigh to pull him closer, closer in the narrow space.

Trembling now, he ducked to press his forehead against her shoulder, steadying himself until he could make the path downwards again, fingers splayed wide at her stomach, stroking the soft flesh and delicate muscle.

“You’re perfect…” she assured, giving his hair a tug. “So perfect…”

His lips followed a trail over her belly, the notch of her waist, to stop at a sharp, straight scar just at the vale of her ribs.

“What’s this?” he asked quietly, tracing his nose at it.

She lifted her head to watch him. “A perp,” she explained. “The guy was armed.”

His thumb traced it, head cocked with a spill of curls falling into his eyes. He made a tender, contemplative sound before leaning to gently press his lips to it. She stroked at his hair in some grateful gesture, until his attention moved from it to the button at her jeans.

The button and zipper came loose easily at his hand and he chuckled against her, breath tickling the skin under her navel and causing her thighs to brace. She assumed he was poking fun at her practical choice in underwear, so she rolled her eyes at his murmured “Make fun of me for coordinating, do you?”

He wrapped an arm under her hips, helping to lift and push it all away onto the crowded floor, leaving her bare and blinking when he didn’t bring himself over her once more.

His sudden gasp was sharp and stinted, but his ‘oh’ of surprise drew through the room like a breeze. His fingers traced her right thigh, where she knew the familiar likeness of a wide-winged thunderbird was etched. 

“Buggering hell, woman,” he husked, palming her skin before he stroked at it again. She hummed a playful note of satisfaction, smiling while she watched him measure the line of the body with his fingers, where it was marked against her outer leg, wings furled around her thigh.

She heard his exhale, awe-struck, and his audible swallow before he clamored over her again, all hands and trembling knees to kiss her _hard_ and full.

She was nearly ready to ask, but his hand found the crux of her thighs instantly, giving a experimental but firm _press_. She keened her approval, digging in her heels. Her eyes rolled up to watch him settle beside her on the length of the mattress. 

His tested her neatly, gingerly, fingers dipping and retreating, and she pressed up against him, whining softly, pleading at the loss of contact. 

He helped and guided her to widen her knees, rendering her open and exposed to the empty room. 

He shifted to pillow his head against his bicep, giving him a level view of her face and allowing him a free hand to stroke the hair from her forehead. She tried to meet his need at maintaining eye contact but found it difficult when he gave one slow swipe before circling and sparks dotted her vision. She tensed into him, down against his hand and into his chest, _pressing_ her fingers into the sweeping lines of dark ink at his shoulder.

He pet her hair, leaned to kiss her temple. “Breathe…” he whispered.

“Then stop teasing…” she hissed, grinding down against his fingers, flashing a smile before it melted away when he found the cluster of nerves that bloomed at his touch, and they groaned in concordance. 

She gnawed at her lip, working against the roll attempting to twitch through her hips, in favor of letting him explore and try, determined to draw out this moment of delectation. She wouldn’t let this end earlier than necessary. He’d already expressed uncertainty with his abilities; she wouldn’t get carried away for his sake.

“No. Do that. If you like. Whatever you need.”

His fingers implored, smoothing into her, withdrawing, and circling. She reached down, _holding_ his hand where she wanted and giving an enthusiastic roll of her hips. At the stir of her added friction partnered with his, a low growl wrung from Newt’s throat that made her clench around him without consciousness. 

She moaned artlessly and his fingers twitched in surprise at the sound, stroking within while his thumb circled above. She held fast, continuing to work against him until her hips stuttered, unintended. He kept his rhythm, even as she ground her hips rapid fire against him in three short jerks, and the primal echo of her release filled the room, all gasps and lilted moans. She grasped for him, eyes squeezed shut, and there he was, a hard ridge of muscle and fine bone, there to lean into while her knees locked and her toes curled at the blazing force of it. 

She hummed her content at his throat, attempting to catch her breath, her body leaded and flushed. He curled an arm over her, drawing his fingertips over the clip of her shoulder blade, the tight muscle at her back. 

She chanced a look at his face when she was able, already steeling herself for his wondered gaze before she saw it, even still cut to her core at the bright glimmer in his eyes.

Greedy and too weighted to sit, she gave his shoulder a gentle tug. He caught on, shifting slow and almost hesitant to his knees. He tugged away his own boxers, lifting his knees only as much as needed to shift out of them, gaze locked to her while her eyes wandered from his the curve of ink on his shoulder to the lithe, slender muscles of his chest and stomach, further down to explore the new skin. 

The dark dragon scribed at the angle of his hip drew attention downwards to the shadow of coppery hair between his narrow hips, his freckled and most intimate part nestled proudly within it.

She gazed up to his face and reached to stroke his cheek with the backs of her fingers, and he purred, leaning into the contact then turning his chin to kiss her knuckles.

He squared his shoulders and hitched closer, and this time she brought her thighs to curl over his, guiding him in place. Half impatient, half inquisitive, she reached to stroke at the smooth velvet of _him_ with the same affection she’d stroked at his cheek, before turning her wrist to grasp him fully. 

He gave a dark, stuttered grunt, fiercely still. He was close enough that she could kiss his cheek, her hand working slow and perceptually soft. One hand threaded into his hair when his head fell back, and his gaze lolled forward again to her, eyes uncharacteristically dark and glinting, freckles in sharp contrast to the color in his cheeks.

He only allowed a few more moments of this before leaning forward to grasp her wrist, pulling her away to thread their fingers.

“I must ask you this,” he whispered. She watched the serious, sharp cut of his eyes before he asked without fanfare, “Are you on the pill?”

She shook her head. “I have an IUD.”

He nodded, street light bouncing off his hair. “Alright. Have you been tested recently?”

“Last month. I’m good.”

“It’s been about six months for me, but I haven’t so much as _kissed_ since then. Are you alright with that?”

She measured the significance of this exchange, why he treated the matter with the utmost austerity, but chalked it up to his seemingly unending kindness and explicit decency, and then nodded her assent.

“Yes,” she added, giving him the comfort of hearing it aloud.

He gave an answering nod, and then reached back to grasp her ankle, lifting to curl her knee to his shoulder. She mirrored the movement with her opposite leg, clasping him close and reaching to push both her hands through his hair while he kissed at the crux of her knee.

“Are you ready then?” he husked, and in response she reached to line them up, arching her hips properly. Her thumb stroked him just once more before she repeated her affirmative in as strong a whisper as she could manage.

He anchored his hips forward, sliding in full and warm and making her hum in indulgence.

All at once, the full witness of this encounter sparked through her. Only four days ago, she’d been working against the force of that gnawing, churning sense at the pit of her gut that said something essentially and wholly _hers_ had fallen away. She had thought, then, that it needed finding. But now...close and warm and thoroughly _cherished_ , she could see, at least for now, that perhaps it had just gotten crowded over. Perhaps she’d grown to overlook it: her own significance, her _value_.

She closed her eyes against the weight of this, struggling at the sting in her eyes before she felt the ghost of his fingertips at her cheek, his thumb over her lips, his hand trembling. She blinked up to him, wide eyed and his brow fixed in astonishment simply for her. Against her best efforts, a tear threaded over her lashes to be swept away by his steady hand.

She steeled and composed, reaching out to press a firm palm to his hip bone, encouraging him to _move_.

He let out a low sound, a growl, and buried himself deeper still, before he began with one long, slow thrust and she thrummed at the breadth of him. 

She clutched at the hard of his hips, bringing her hands around to his cheeks and calling him to keep on.

His pace left her in gasps that made her chest work, struggling at the want to save this tender moment but _needing_ more, until he leaned to kiss her, firm but full of sentiment, and the new angle encouraged a heady moan from her lips.

He watched her resolutely, eyes wide and impossibly bright green in the dark of the room. She focused, locking their gaze until she gave in to concentrating at the desperate and starving itch between them.

She let herself revel in it, embrace it, possess it, until she was keening and tightening around him, instinctively pinning her palms to the mattress and lifting her hips to let him have the whole of her.

His pace switched, now urgent and seeking for _her_ as she teetered at the edge, lips pressed firm and eyes locked shut. The angle fumbled, and she hissed, reaching to yank the roots of hair as he pressed at something sensile and worldly.

“Keep doing that…” she urged, and before he could even summon a few more full strokes, she whined open-mouthed and completely brazen. He echoed her, if only at the sight of her. Her face turned against the mattress, lip worried between her teeth.

A hand flew to his shoulder, dragging him in and leveraging against him as she unfurled, gasping aloud, happy heat curling through her stomach and chest.

Sated but present, she turned a heavy head back to watch him now, lost to the nearness of his own release, brow furrowed as he pressed on.

She stroked at his neck, feeling the tendons and muscle drawn tight. He arched even still, curling over her like a rapacious cat, pinning his hands by her head, until something surged and pressed through her core, growing impossibly larger and then snapping. A telltale flutter worked through her, and she groaned off his hissed inhales until all at once his breath huffed hot and hard against her face while he tried to simultaneously unwind and prolong the moment.

She voiced her wordless contentment, stroking at his hair, thumbing through his fringe.

“Tina…” His tone was high and sharp. “Tina…”

“Yes…” she said, an encouragement. The muscles in her thighs burned as she made to lower them from his shoulders, wrapping over his hips and letting him rest flush against her.

She let him pause, let him gather himself, his full weight pressed to her chest before he lifted his head numbly to suckle at the inside swell of her breast. “You are…”

But he didn’t finish, instead giving her flesh one last balming kiss before he withdrew, and they hissed together at the sensation. Without ado, he nuzzled his cheek to hers, purring contentedly.

“You’re beautiful. Like that. All the time. You’re beautiful all the time.” His words trussed together clumsily, dazedly. She gave a dry chuckle. His fingers stroked past the ink on her thigh absently while she worked to blink back to a present not strung with tension, curling heat, pressing hands.

“Thank you,” she answered, not in reference to his comment.

Aware now of the telling wetness between her thighs, she gave an uncomfortable groan. “I want to...clean up.”

He shuffled, a slow and sleepy crawl to lie on his side beside her. He gave a wave of his hand to a closed door at the opposite wall.

“Bathroom,” he mumbled. 

He allowed her the privacy to adjust herself, before following behind to do that same. She was already tucked naked beneath the ragged plaid bedspread when he joined her again, searching the floor for his boxers before crawling in beside her. 

She tucked herself close, cradled and wrapped against and around him, kissed the place where his heartbeat was strongest. Without further discussion, they let themselves have the moments before sleep to stroke and touch, memorize and stow away.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [KatieHavok](https://katiehavok.tumblr.com) for inspiring this and having my back when I just wanted to tear it up and forget it.
> 
> [@allscissorsallpaper](https://allscissorsallpaper.tumblr.com) on tumblr :)


End file.
